


Incompatibility

by snapegirl



Category: Holby City, Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Drift Compatibility, F/F, Past Alex/Bernie relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2018-08-24 12:49:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8372869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snapegirl/pseuds/snapegirl
Summary: Bernie Wolfe, former PPDC (Pan-Pacific Defence Corp) pilot, has no intention of going back into a Jaeger after the disaster that was Sydney but when a mystery figure appears in her flat in Hong Kong with a Pilot vacancy, she couldn't resist. Perhaps the woman in her flat (with that damn smirk, that chin dimple, those piercing brown eyes which could look right through her) is more intriguing than she thought.The Pacific Rim AU no one has ever asked for.





	1. Breaking and Entering

**Author's Note:**

> When someone from Hong Kong (me) met someone from Australia (Ro), this started.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shatterdome (/'ʃætəˌdəʊm/): the primary headquarters of the Pan Pacific Defense Corps (PPDC) and factories for the construction, repair and maintenance of the Jaegers. All operations, Ranger training and experiments regarding the Kaiju are carried out within their respective Shatterdome bases.

There is someone in her flat, Bernie knows before she even steps through the door. That’s the thing about Hong Kong, there isn’t anything bigger than a shoe box if she is to live in the city centre. Her PPDC pension didn’t help with the choices either. She walks closer to the figure facing the window, analysing everything about them in the process. She doesn’t bother with hiding her footsteps, the intruder have managed to get in then certainly they must have heard the lock.

Their posture is ram-rod straight and utterly still, hands crossed at the back. Attire is standard ceremonial military uniform but with combat trousers and boots. The light shines through the window, making the fabrics black but Bernie knows that it is a charcoal grey. The light also glints off the stars on the shoulder of the jacket, four, they are a Marshal. Not Bernie’s last commanding officer because he is taller than the person in front of her and not a woman. She is wearing trousers but the hips are wider.

“How may I help you, Marshal?” She throws her bag down at the sofa casually.

“You know me?” says the figure in a British accent. The woman turns around to reveal a slightly round face with a dimpled chin.

“Not the foggiest.” Bernie walks closer to intimidate her with her height. “Your rank is right on your shoulder. Now I’ll ask again: _how may I help you?”_

It isn’t very effective apparently because the woman starts smirking as her piercing brown eyes travels upwards to stare at Bernie resolutely.

“Serena McKinnie, I have a job offer.”

“You want me back in Shatterdome, piloting?” Bernie narrows her eyes at McKinnie, there will only ever be one kind of job offer from a Marshal.

“Yes, problem?” She tilts her head and says lightly.

“This is absolutely ridiculous. I don’t want to go back, if that is not enough then try to remember I left, that should be quite an indicator don’t you think!” Bernie barks out a mocking laugh.

“I don’t know what Guy Self was thinking when he let you go on medical grounds, you look fit to pilot now and I am down to only one crew so here we are.” McKinnie is still smirking and it’s irritating Bernie as every second passes.

“Where is he now anyway? I know he was reassigned to Hong Kong after I left.”

“Impeached, by the _entire_ base, I was called in from the States four years ago as his successor.” Campbell walks around Bernie and surveys the flat. “He couldn’t find a co-pilot so he retired altogether.”

“That is not helping your case of persuading me, your entire base revolted against someone who was once my commanding officer.” Bernie crosses her arm in front her chest as her eyes keep track of McKinnie's movement. “You don’t seem to be doing very well either, one crew?”

“Oliver Valentine left after his wife was KIA. She was his second deceased co-pilot, now that I can understand why he wanted out but as I recall, you have no such extenuating circumstances.”

“I am not going into battle anymore,I have had enough,” she answered curtly.

“Ah yes, that must be why you chose to move away from an active war zone to live in another one!” McKinnie said in a false brightness. “Let’s face it Ranger, you are not scared of the battles, you _miss_ It.”

Bernie watches her grin grows even wider and she knows she has lost because it is true. She misses being in a Jaeger, she misses the combat and most importantly, she missed sharing a mental bond with another person.

“Fine, can I tempt you with a cup of tea while I pack, Marshal?”

“Thank you, that would be nice. Call me Serena by the way.”

Bernie starts to laugh throatily as the kettle is boiling.

“And how successful has that been so far?”

“Surprisingly well for the officers, although the Head of K-Science is still terrified of me and the furthest my J-Tech Chief is willing to go is ‘Ms McKinnie’.” Serena takes a seat on the sofa and exchanges the cup of tea with Bernie’s bag.

“The rangers?”

Bernie contemplates what she would take to the base. There aren’t much really, Marcus took most of the stuff when they divorced. Might as well just bag everything that’s portable.

“Don’t know. Two of them are in the Infirmary and the other two just fresh out of the academy.”

“Seriously?!” She asked incredulously as she stuffs all her worldly possessions into a military backpack.

“Seriously,” Serena says solemnly. “You are the closest Ranger in the vicinity and I am humble enough to admit I am desperate.”

“Huh,” Bernie says distractedly, the bag is surprisingly light. “I think I am done.”

Serena drains the cup and stands up. “Well then let’s not linger, a helicopter is waiting for us at the Nethersole Hospital.”

“That’s more than an hour away! Why not the Convention Centre given that we are in Central of all places?”

“We are not even at the Shatterdome yet and you are already questioning my judgement.”

Bernie is astonished upon hearing the teasing tone in Serena’s statement.

“The Centre is now covered in Kaiju blood, the bio-hazard team is working and night to fix it. Shall we?” Serena continues.

Bernie nods mutely and follows Serena out of the flat. She doesn’t look back.

The journey takes shorter than Bernie has anticipated. She looks out when the helicopter descends on Shatterdome, the base for the Pan Pacific Defense Corp, her corp.

_It’s so similar to the Sydney one, yet so different._

She steps out of the helicopter as soon as the wheels touch the helipad. Then she realises she doesn’t actually know where to proceed after that, people whom she have never met before are bustling around, working on one thing or another, she is the one who doesn’t fit into the picture.

“Lost?” Serena called from a fair distance away, a girl with the heaviest and darkest make-up Bernie has ever seen standing right next to Serena with a clipboard.

“Sorry about that, slightly too eager.” Bernie half-smiles, embarrassed.

“So I can see. This is Freida Petrenko.” She gestured to the girl. “Our programmer and second-in-command for all the Jaegers’ maintenance.”

“I would have thought the arrival of a Ranger would bring the Chief out,” Bernie says good-naturedly.

“Yes, where _is_ he? He told he would be here when I land.” Serena looks around and settles back to Petrenko. She is mid-30s, now that Bernie looks more closely but her face shows a more youthful facade.

“Oh he got distracted -” she starts matter-of-factly in a heavy European accent.

“Talking to Professor Hope,” Serena and her finish together. “Thought so,” Serena says with a knowing nod.

“Elliot Hope?! The best weapon’s specialist in the world?”

“I’ll tell him that, he would be flattered,” Petrenko says matter-of-factly again. Bernie now suspects that it’s just her natural tone.

“Well then, I hate to say this but if the man won’t come to us …” Serena says, “oh what am I thinking, he will eventually. Let’s give you the tour!”

They walk into the main bay which houses all the functioning Jaegers which is only one at the moment but what a magnificent one. A Mark IV, the latest model, by the looks of it, sleeker and lighter than she can ever remember but can pack a punch harder than all the other models. It is painted with wild dashes of raspberry red and navy blue, blending with each other nicely.

At its foot stood its pilots, still in their dive suits, a stunningly beautiful girl in a bun and an equally handsome boy with a devilish grin. They are talking to an officer and the girl raises a hand to swat her co-pilot in the back of the head but he lowers his head just the tiniest fraction to dodge the blow; he nudges her in retaliation with his elbow but she catches him with the other hand before he can make contact.

Bernie feels a pang in her chest. They are still in the Drift, two minds occupying one head harmoniously, knowing what the other is thinking before they think of it themselves. _I miss that._

Serena notices her staring and introduces, “Keller Hysteria, Mark IV. Piloted by Rangers Zosia March and Dominic Copeland, technically a duo-”

“But actually?” Bernie interjects.

“See the officer talking to them? That’s our K-Science head Arthur Digby, drift compatible with both of them but not a Ranger due to health issues, he is now their Kaiju analyst with a fantastic success.” Her smile is small but proud.

“Until now?”

“No.” Serena’s eyes have a fiery flash. “It’s the largest Category III kaiju we have ever seen and just how things are in combat, you of all people should know that.”

“Sorry.” Bernie straightens slightly. “Is he the one who is terrified of you?”

That thankfully diffuses the tension as Serena smirks. “Shall we continue?”

They walk into a side bay which Bernie assumes it is the repair bay because there is a disassembled Jaeger right next to the door. She can’t tell what model it is because battered does not even begin to describe the state of the machine. She steps forward, intend to inspect the foot of the Jaeger more closely but she stopped short at the sight of a second Jaeger in the bay.

“Is that…?!” _I can’t believe this._

“Afghan Sigma? Yes.” Freida says simply.

She is still as heavy-set and bulky as the day Bernie left Sydney but now her colour is a shiny camouflage instead of the dull and weathered grey. There is also a freshly painted gigantic **Σ** on the calf.

“She is -” Bernie sighs in awe.

“Exquisite.”

The voice does not belong to either Serena or Freida for it is deeper and comes from somewhere above and far behind her. She turns around and faces a ridiculously tall and thin man in a tech uniform, with a nest of curly hair on his head.

“Pure Titanium casing, complete engine replacement,operating system upgraded but we kept the User Interface as it was,” he walks closer and says. Bernie cranes her head up.

“What he meant was: I am Henrik Hanssen, J-tech Chief Engineer. Nice to meet you at last.” Serena is not looking at either of them, instead of on the file that somehow just appeared in her hand.

“No, I cannot possibly mean that, Ms McKinnie.” He frowned as if Serena has insulted him.

“Bernie Wolfe.” She stretches her hand out. “At last?”

Serena answers before Hanssen can open his mouth, “he made the recommendation of getting you back, he is also part of the selection team for your new co-pilot.”

Outwardly, she offers Hanssen a cautious smile they shake hands but she is panicking at the prospect of letting someone else in her head.

“I thought you said I am the closest,” Bernie accuses Serena lightly, trying to get her thought elsewhere.

“And if pragmatism is not one of his more _dazzling_ qualities _,_ he wouldn’t be my second-in-command.” Serena looks at her watch. “It’s about dinner time, Freida would take you to the Mess Hall. I need to discuss with Mr Hanssen about this report and preferably get out of this uniform.”

She follows Freida down to the Mess where people are already sitting different tables in sections of the canteen. Bernie notices it seems to be according to Jaeger crews, Keller’s pilots and tech are in one section, another crew is in another part.

Freida makes a beeline to an old man with an impressive beard and belly who is sitting close to a bunch of techs but not really in that group. Bernie remembers reading about his inventions in the papers even after she left the corp. She sits down opposite him after getting food.

“Professor Hope? I am Bernie Wolfe,” she might have say it slightly louder than usual as the noise level suddenly dims a notch. People turn their heads to watch her, a few of them start muttering but most of them lose interest fairly quickly.

Elliot Hope, on the other hand, brightens up like a child on Christmas day.

“Ah, Ms Wolfe! Please call me Elliot. Such a pleasure, I am having so much fun designing the weapon system for Afghan.”

“I hope you don’t have rockets strapped to her back, not a great fan of heights.” To her horror, he looks thoughtful.

“Don’t give him ideas,” Freida says as she ploughs through her food.

“I am afraid Miss Petrenko is right,” Hanssen says.

He and Serena sit down on their table, opposite each other. For a Marshal, she seems strangely casual with her subordinates. She even dresses unlike any commanding officers she had met, in PPDC or in the British Army: she kept the combat trousers and boots but she now has a flowing, bright blue shirt on top of a vest.

Hanssen on the other hand is wearing a … three-piece suit. An immaculate one.

“What’s the special occasion?”

They all look at her in confusion for a long time. Serena is the first to cotton on as she follows Bernie’s line of sight to the man opposite her. She lets out a _giggle,_ making Bernie looks at her in amazement.

“That’s what he usually wears when he is not in a Jaeger bay,” Serena says.

Gosh what is she getting herself into? The Marshal is overly familiar with her subordinates, the K-science head can theoretically drift with two pilots, the J-tech Chief wears suits when not around Jaegers which should be rarely and the weapons specialist is literally the walking stereotype of “the mad professor who comes up with the inventions”. Five years away and this is no longer a place she recognises.

 _This is not Sydney anymore,_ she reminds herself.

Bernie eats the food slowly, all the while watching Freida and Elliot discussing the latest programming that assisting with the weapons system; Serena is stealing cherry tomatoes from Hanssen and he just rolls his eyes in response.

“Come on, eat up! I’ll show you to your quarters after dinner, it’s opposite mine. The trial for your co-pilot starts tomorrow at 0600 hours, get some early rest Ranger.” Serena glanced up at Bernie from her plate of food.

She eats the rest of it just because she needs the energy but the sleeping arrangement is another further evidence that she is alone now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'd by [refreshingly-original](http://www.refreshingly-original.tumblr.com)


	2. Blur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kwoon (/kuːn/, Chinese: 館): A combat room specialises in epxanding both physical and mental limits. The goal: to forge an ideal partnership between the Rangers instead of a superior being in order for both to successfully pilot a Jaeger.
> 
> Bernie finds out who her co-pilot is.

Bernie sits bare-footed in the middle of the Kwoon at 0530 with her legs crossed, her choice of weapon in front of her and her boots at the edge of the mat. She usually goes for two batons instead of the standard Hanbō half-staff that most cadets are trained in.

It would be quite enjoyable to see them thrown off by this, she smiles to herself.

The smile shrinks as she remembers that beating them is never the goal of this, if anything stalemate is always the best. It’s the connection and respect in the process that matters in a neural handshake, not the outcome. She closes her eyes and try to clear her mind.

“Ah, there you are,” Serena’s voice appears at the entrance. “I was banging on your door for five minutes with no response.”

“Where did _you_ go last night?” Bernie quips without opening her eyes. “Saw you went out but didn’t hear you come back, at least not when I fell asleep.”

Serena does not respond to the question but says something else instead.

“This is Ms Estelle Harrison, our Kwoon Fightmaster.”

Bernie realises Serena is accompanied by another person when she walks in. She opens her eyes and sees Serena with a bright red top, accompanied by a tiny blonde woman.

_Kwoon Fightmaster eh? She must be a small bundle of fury._

“Call me Essie, Sacha told me a lot about you,” she says when Bernie stands up and shakes her hand. Her grip is strong and firm but with no intention of establish dominance, interesting.

“Sacha Levy? He’s here?” Bernie’s wide eyes travel from Essie to Serena.

“Yes… he is the head of the Med team and husband of Essie,” Serena drawls. “You know him?”

“He saved my life in Sydney,” Bernie says simply.

“Ah.” Serena nods. “The cadets will arrive shortly. Do you want to know who the candidates are?”

“What’s the point? I am going to meet them right here in the ring. Where is Hanssen though, thought you said he is part of the selection team?” She asks Serena but it is Essie who answers.

“Mr Hanssen takes care of the psychological side of things, it is my turn now, the physical.” They cross to the other side of the room and discuss among themselves.

Bernie picks up the batons and walks around to get herself warmed up. Several cadets walk in at six and she hears someone mutters, “well if that isn’t the one who ran away.”

That was worse than any blow and the selection hasn’t even begun. She cannot fathom a response but Serena beats her to it.

“Attention, cadets!” Her voice is strong and commanding, a few of them shrink at it. That is a complete contrast from what Bernie’s observation yesterday, maybe she has underestimated the Marshal after all.

“This is not only Ranger Wolfe’s co-pilot selection,” Serena continues. “Depending on your performance, this also indicates your score of the Kwoon test, your last test before graduating the academy. Sink or swim everyone, understood?”

“Yes, Marshal!” A chorus of assent from the candidates but the words didn’t stop two boys from shooting disdain looks at Bernie.

“Let us begin,” Essie calls for each candidate to take their place opposite Bernie.

Thankfully for Bernie and unlucky for those two, they are the first two up against her. She doesn’t even bother to try creating a connection: the batons confuse both of them, a block and three quick jabs to the torso and stomach sends the first down, the second one takes even less time, he just charges at Bernie and she neatly side-steps, hooking her foot at his ankle. End of round two.

Bernie tilts her head and smiles sweetly at Number Two as he nurses his bottom and walks off the mat.

“Next, Morven Shreeve,” Essie reads off from her list.

She refocuses on the girl in front of her, that was just warm up, now it’s the real thing. The Shreeve girl can handle herself in the fight, intelligent as well when she quickly figures out how to adjust her grip on the Hanbō to block her batons. However the fight is uneven, she is obviously intimated by Bernie and hesitant in her attacks, soon she is flat on the floor face-first with the batons pressing on her neck.

“Nice one kid but I don’t bite,” Bernie says as she helps her up.

“Thanks.” She laughs nervously and walks away.

“Adrian Fletcher, take your position,” commands Serena.

He is older than all the other cadets and definitely craftier. His attacks are more like street brawls than the textbook ones of Shreeve. He is not in a hurry either, circling each other and throwing some feints now and then to test out Bernie’s style. They are in this stalemate for quite some time before Bernie decides enough is enough, she suddenly charges towards him and he hastily swipes at her, clearly caught off guard by the change of pattern. She easily ducks the weapon and tackles him.

Bernie feels conflicted. There is undeniable that a connection exists, they match each other quite well but there is also something fundamental missing in that connection.  She has no idea what that is.

“Clear the room.” Serena’s voice brings her back to where she is.

Bernie gets up and stretches out a hand to Fletcher.

“But -” Essie protests.

“You heard me.” Serena says, short and sharp.

“That was fun.” Fletcher takes the hand and gets up. “I am Fletch.”

“You will make a fine pilot, Fletch, just not with me.” Bernie smiles apologetically.

“Your co-pilot will come along one day,” he says and walks away with the other cadets after putting his shoes back on.

Bernie turns around and Serena is the only other person in the Kwoon. She sits down carefully at the edge of the mat and unlaces her boots methodically. Placing them with their soles align neatly with the edge, she steps into ring and open her arms.

“What is the meaning of this?” Bernie asks suspiciously.

“A theory I would like to put to test. See if you can touch me with your batons first,” Serena says, not moving an inch nor lower her arms.

Touch her? That is very ambitious of her.

All the same, Bernie moves in swiftly and just as she was about to tap Serena on the arm, it somehow misses her by the scantest of millimetre. Bernie immediately jumps backwards to keep a safe distance between them.

“What the hell?” she says, her eyes wide.

Serena now has her arm down but she doesn’t seem to have moved at all. She is wearing that annoying smirk again. Bernie goes in for the second time, this time faster to catch her.

Then Serena turned into a _blur._

No matter how fast she moves, the batons never make contact and Serena seems to be one step ahead of her. This is no longer a fight, but a dance happening right in the middle of the mat. For Bernie, this is almost an out-of-body experience to watch Serena elegantly twists and turns, leaving a scarlet flash after her and narrowly missing every attacks. Bernie is more interesting in matching her graceful movements now than winning the challenge but she is getting closer as she gets better in reading her opponent’s movements. She is getting to read Serena’s mind because it is becoming her own mind.

Suddenly the red vanished and before she can swing around, a small blade is right at her throat, she can feel the chill travels down her entire body.

“We need to talk.” Serena takes away the dagger and Bernie lets out a ragged breath. “Get your shoes on.”

She laces her boots as she watches Serena lifts her trouser leg slightly and put the knife back to its ankle sheath. Bernie’s brain is in overdrive, there is something similar about that fighting style but at the same time that was not how she remembered it. Serena must have acquired this style when she was a Ranger -

The revelation comes in two words. “Boston Phantom,” Bernie says as she follows Serena out of the Kwoon.

Serena freezes fractionally but she keeps walking.

“I knew I saw this before but it was a Jaeger that applied this style. You are Serena _Campbell,_ pilot of the lightest and fastest Jaeger in history!” Bernie says.

“McKinnie is my maiden name, I started using it when I got promoted to Marshal.” Serena says as they arrive in front of an iron door.

It is her office, Bernie assumes. A large, neat room which houses only a hologram computer and a desk, the window that the desk is facing presents the coastline of Hong Kong Island with all its glory and ruins.

Serena pulls the chair from the desk to the middle of the room and gestures Bernie to take a folding chair beside the door. Someone knocks at the door just as they sit down opposite each other.

“Whatever it is, make it quick,” Serena calls.

Hanssen steps in, he seems out of breath. Bernie never pegs him as the kind of person that needs to hurry.

“So what Ms Harrison said was true.” He walks closer to the pair of them.

“What did she say?” Serena is not looking at him but at the wall behind Bernie.

“That you were testing your drift compatibility with Ms Wolfe,” he says, staring at her intendedly.

“Yes, and we are.” Serena turns her gaze at Bernie.

Bernie looks from Serena to Hanssen and recoiled when she met Hanssen’s eyes. There is pure venom in them.

“You know - ” Hanssen started but Serena put a hand up.

She addresses Bernie directly. “Your ex co-pilot, Alex Dawson. Do you know where she is now?” Serena stands up and strolled to the computer.

Her heart skips a beat when she hears the name after so long. “No,” she says after a long pause.

“Still in Sydney, it appears.” Serena looks up from the computer. “But not in the corp anymore.”

“What are you suggesting?” Bernie asked, not sure what to feel about her imminent answer.

Serena continues to ignore Hanssen as she looks at Bernie. “As things stand, I cannot drift with you, I have my duty as Marshal but it might be worth a try to contact her.”

“Me…or you?” she gestures hesitantly between them.

“Which one is more effective? Official or personal?”

“Definitely not breaking into her flat,” she mutters and Serena breaks into a smug but large smile.

“Well that’s settled then, a personal touch that is,” she says cheerfully before standing up. “Ranger you are dismissed, contact details will be sent to your room shortly.”

Bernie stands up, salutes and is about to leave the room when Hanssen starts to speak. “Ms Wolfe, a word?”

_Ah, here we go._

“No you may not, Mr Hanssen, I need to speak to you.” Serena interrupts before Bernie can say anything. “Alone.”

She nods, though eager for a show, doesn’t stray very far. Soon enough there is a loud thump on the wall and a muffled voice leaked through the door.

“Which part of ‘Marshal Serena McKinnie’ are you struggling to understand?”

Hanssen responds in a more reasonable volume but it also means Bernie can’t hear anything other than the vibration of a baritone.

“I think I know my own mind, Mr Hanssen, I don’t care what has happened between us but _never_ question me before my rangers again, do you understand?”

_Huh, interesting._

She doesn’t linger to hear his answer, she has more important things to do.

—

Five days. Nothing.

“She refuses to answer phone calls, emails, or even good old-fashioned letters so, what went wrong?”

They are back in that office, this time she feels like a failure.

“I –” _What didn’t go wrong?_

“Bernie, what happened in Sydney?”

“Efficient, to the last letter.” She crosses her arms in front of her tightly.

“I manage exactly how I fight.”

“What? Evasively?”

“Now who is being evasive?”

“Point.” She falls silent and Serena waits patiently. “I fell in love with her, and then I ran away.”

“Did it have anything to do with the damage Afghan sustained in your last deployment with Ranger Dawson?”

She flinched and her hand automatically went to her chest, her heart beating steadily underneath her palm. She is in Hong Kong Shatterdome, not at the Sydney Miracle Mile, a hole appearing right in the middle of Afghan, _all the way through to the Con Pod, cutting them in half_ -

“Bernie!”

She blinks and looks past Serena’s shoulder. She was posted to Hong Kong for a couple of years before the invasion, it was lovely and probably why she moved here five years ago.

“I got sloppy, ” she says, moving her gaze back to Serena. “Love is a dangerous thing.”

Surprisingly, Serena does not look disdainful, nor is pity present in those eyes, in fact she looks…wistful. “Comes with the territory I suppose,” she says softly.

They both fall into contemplative silence but Serena is the first to clap her hands once and gets into motion.

“Where are we going?” Bernie asks as she follows.

“We are in an active warzone, an attack can come at any second, we couldn’t afford to wait around. I’m taking you to meet the person who might just be able to drift with you.” She gives Bernie a tight smile as she sweeps from the room, this time leaving an orange fluttering behind her.

“Who?”

“Jac Naylor.”

—

“You are fucking kidding me.”

They are at the Infirmary Consultation Room and there is only a person in there: straight auburn hair, high cheekbones and an arm in a sling.

“Well, well, well, look who’s here. Marshal.” She stares at Bernie, amused, before nodding at Serena.

“Ms Naylor.”

“Do I have fight a kaiju single-handed as well?” she snipes.

“Lucky for you, I am here to get the cast off.”

Bernie tries to retort but is interrupted by a man with a loudest shirt walking in, head buried in a tablet.

_The same style that greeted her eyes five years ago when she first opened them after nearly dying and she muttered, “it’s so fucking loud I can hear it.” and dropped back into sleep._

Sacha Levy.

“So, Jac, let’s get it off before you terrorise anymore techni - oh.” He lifts his head out of the tablet and noticed the presence of people more than Naylor. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Not really, just don’t quite understand how am I going to get a co-pilot in the Infirmary when I can’t get one in the Kwoon,” she says flippantly before breaking into a big grin. “Hello Sacha.”

“Bernie Wolfe, as I live and breathe!” He rushes forward and gives her a bear hug, lifting her feet off the the ground. “How’s the heart?”

She ignores the curious glances of the women. “Still beating. I met your wife by the way.”

His face lights up at the mention but before he can gush about her, Naylor interrupts. “How about you get this cast off me so that I can talk to my co-pilot in peace?”

He sighs good-naturedly and sets about taking the cast off while mumbling about after treatment, physiotherapy and no strenuous activities. Bernie looks in with amusement as Jac rolls her eyes for upteemth times but nods fondly.

“Sacha? Update me on the status of Mo Effanga?” she asks after he has finished all the checks and they walk out, muttering among themselves.

Bernie puts her hands on her waist and leant against the wall. “My co-pilot? I didn’t say yes.”

“You don’t have one, and mine is still out of action so what’s better than pair up?”

“This is not some scientific group project in secondary school, you don’t just round up the billy-no-mates!”

“I bring nothing into the drift, that make me a valuable asset. I can drift with anyone, it just depends on whether you can catch up with me.” She hops off the bed and continues as she walks past her out of the room. “I have to practice on the user interface of Sigma, it is completely different from my Darwin Kibo but I am sure it will be like stepping into old boots for you. See you at the trial.”

Bernie doesn't know if there is any barb in that comment, frankly there is no time to play little games. So she shrugs and leaves the Infirmary to find Serena waiting her at the corridor.

“All right?” she smiles warmly and somehow in this metallic compound where there isn’t even a fucking window in the corridors, it feels like the sun is shinning on her, not the humid kind in summer where everything sticks absolutely _everywhere._ It’s autumn, early winter, when the breeze is picking up to take away the heat, the warmth still permeates through.

“Sorry, what?” She realises she is staring into the brown eyes for far too long

“Everything okay? You spaced out a little.” They starts to walk towards the Mess for lunch.

“Why won’t you drift with me? Or rather why was Hanssen that angry with me at the prospect of you doing a neural handshake?”

“He was out of order.” She avoids her eyes and walks even faster, the very sign that prompts her to press on.

“What happened in Anchorage?”

That stops Serena. When she looks at Bernie, she knows the pain in her eyes, lined in the tightening of her jaws, in every crinkling at the corner of her eyes that is once radiating warmth. The pain of losing someone precious.

The pain that stares back at her every time Bernie Wolfe looks into a mirror.

Before Bernie could say something, _anything,_ to console, to apologise, a large group of people turned around the corner and separates them, heading towards the Mess.

“You go eat, I have a headache.” Serena talks over the dim and walks away without waiting for an answer from her.

The flow of people brought her in the opposite direction of Serena and of the direction where she wants to go. Bernie tithers at the end of  queue, holding her tray of food. Without Serena, she has no idea where to sit: she has not been chatting with her crew enough to be a part of them, Naylor was nowhere to be seen (perhaps she meant what she said) and her usual table…well… Hanssen has now resorted to treat her as invisible so what’s the different if she sits alone at the maintenance bay?

At least she has Afghan as company as she chewes on her Barbecue pork and rice.  She thinks back to the research she had done when waiting for answer from Alex as she keeps chewing and watches three workers tighten the screw on one of Afghan’s ankle joint with a six-foot wrench.

### Termination Dossier

_Jaeger: Boston Phantom_

_Generation: Mark II_

_Date of Service: 19 October 2008_

_Date of Termination: 7 January 2012_

Ranger Team Assigned: Serena Campbell, [REDACTED]

_Base: Anchorage Shatterdome_

_Incident:_

_Ranger team was deployed at 0500 [24 DEC 2011] to neutralise Category II Kaiju AK-08 “Hookblade”. All Jaeger systems normal after drop until initiation of neural handshake. Both pilots went out of alignment after engaging pilot–to-pilot protocol,_ [REDACTED]. _SC assumed solo control of Boston Phantom and brought down the kaiju with no civilian casualty_ [REDACTED]

 _Medical team successfully retrieved_ [REDACTED] _SC (unconscious but physically unharmed)._

_Post-deployment monitoring:_

[REDACTED]

 _SC:_ [REDACTED], _reporting chronic migraine, failed psychiatric assessment for Ranger_ [REDACTED]

 _Recommendation:_ [REDACTED]

 _Result:_ [REDACTED]. _With no suitable Rangers for piloting, it was terminated on 7 JAN 2012 under the order of Marshal Eric Griffin._

[REDACTED]

 _SC was promoted to Marshal and assigned to Hong Kong Shatterdome with immediate effect after passing psychiatric assessment for Command._ [REDACTED]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'd by [refreshingly-original](http://www.refreshingly-original.tumblr.com)
> 
> I would like to assure you that this is a berena fic, bear with me.


	3. Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LOCCENT (/'ləʊsənt/), also known as Local Command Centre: the communication centre in the Shatterdome, responsible for the deployment of the Jaegers.

_Afghan Sigma Neural test, commencing in 20 minutes_

_機師測試將於二十分鐘後開始_

Bernie listens to the announcement runs through its English and Cantonese versions twice more before standing from her now usual eating spot (of two days) in the Jaeger bay. She has no idea why the Mess is now a place that she dreads to go.

Or perhaps it is just a certain person.

Because every night she lies in bed, listening to the corridor, she wants to know what happened to the woman who resides just opposite her, what caused that tormented look on her face whenever _Anchorage_ was mentioned within her earshot. So far she had heard at least 25 different versions of what _probably_ happened four years ago, each one wilder than the other. One of the new techs told her that Serena’s co-pilot was a kaiju spy, infiltrated the human world. It was the loudest Bernie has ever laughed since she moved to Hong Kong.

She bought that boy (still in awe that he is maintaining _the_ Afghan Sigma under _the_ Serena McKinnie) a tool kit a day later and slapped him good-naturedly on the back. It was only afterwards that she was told that if she had turned around at that time, she would see that Serena was staring at her like she was a star personified.

Naylor is good, she will give her that. The endless simulations and kwoon fighting they had done together had moulded them into the matching fighting partner they should be. Funnily enough, it is the talking that brings them to where are, the discussions after each sim-drop, the compromise from each other. Jac Naylor trusts no one but herself, not even the drift.

“Brain stuff’s weird.” is her exact wording. Or rather, when someone explains to her, in that condescending tone that is just reserved for soldiers how the drift works, she replies with, "I know how it works idiot, I just don't care. Brain stuff's weird. End of."

Although they have to face it now, one way or the other. The one who is scared of going into the drift and the one who hates it. What a dream team.

“I’ll let you to be in control of Afghan, for various reasons that are _not_ because you are in control of me,” Jac grumbles as she fiddles with the console at the assist-pilot position.

“Oh yeah, god forbid the great Jac Naylor has gone soft on a runaway soldier.”

“Is that what people have been saying?”

“Please, you telling me you’re not thinking about the same thing?” she snorts as she puts on the helmet.

“Rookies. Special little brats with their special little power of drift compatibility. Thinking this is a glorious job, pulling girls during shore leave, bragging about their status. You and I, we know better.”

“And you joined because…?”

“It is the best, and I am the best. Are you going to keep asking questions or are we taking the girl for a ride?”

She throws her head back and barks a laugh, “Are you sure you’re not trying to pull girls? First pilot in position.” Locking her boots of her drive suit in place, she counts to three until the exaggerated dry heaving starts.

“Looks like I was wrong, you do have a head as big as those rookies. Second pilot in position.”

_“Ladies.”_ The intercom crackles into life as Jac gets into position.

“Marshal.” They echoed together. Familiarity has no place in a Jaeger, even when it’s a trial run. This is war.

“ _Prepare for Neural Handshake, Mr di Lucca will guide you through.”_

A Scottish brogue replaces Serena’s soft voice at the speaker and Bernie feels a pang of disappointment shoots across her chest. She is hoping to have Serena’s voice in her ears as she goes into the drift for the first time after so long.

_“See you on the flip side, good luck guys. Initiating Neural Handshake in 10…9…8…”_

“Wolfe?”

_“7…6…5…”_

“Hmm?”

_“4…3…2…”_

“Try not to be alarmed at the space.”

_“1…”_

Bernie wants to ask but it’s too late, she can feel the familiar pull into the stream of memories.

It’s like being catapulted into a void.

She sees herself in fleeting details, a child playing in the fields, a young woman in the desert of Afghanistan, the glimpse of the Sydney Shatterdome. Everything, tinged with blue, flows around like water off a duck’s back. She does not attempt to hold onto any of them, not even when the dreaded events of Sydney literally flashing right in front of her eyes. She comes back to the voice announcing, “Neural handshake, strong and holding.”

Then she makes the mistake of looking to her left. Instead of the hint of ginger hair peeking at the visor, it is brown. A kaiju arm separating the two of them, debris everywhere.

She screams through the link but she is getting nothing back.

_Alex._

_Is she dead?_

_“Bernie, you are out of alignment.”_ A gentle but firm voice filled the Con Pod, yanking her back to the clean and calm interior, and anchors her there.

Serena.

“Look Big Head, I don’t do this very often but this is the present. Let go of the past.” She can hear Jac’s slightly bored voice in her ears but she knows fully well she is not talking at all.

“I’m fine, let me do this. I have this under control.”

“ _Okay, you are getting back on alignment. Right hemisphere, calibrating.”_ They both raised their left hand.

_“Left hemisphere, calibrating.”_ The right hands are also up in the air.

They bring their hands together and clasp them together, fingers interlocking.

“ _Well done, Rangers. Despite the rocky start, Afghan Sigma is ready for action. Now we just need to go through some routine checks…”_ Serena continues to lead them through the rest of the trial.

As they follow the calm instructions, Bernie feels…floaty – lost in that vast void inside her head. It is like half her brain get stolen but her motion is fluid as ever, it is instinct, where she belongs.

“That would be all. Get the drive suits off you and treat yourself to whatever you like, even a single nice glass of red. This is Marshal McKinnie, LOCCENT signing off.”

“Good grief I am hungry now.” Bernie can’t stop the throaty laugh from bubbling out of her mouth as technicians swarm in to do post-trial checks and they unlock themselves from their position.

“Then shall we eat at the Mess? You have been missed,” Serena’s voice comes from the door of the Con Pod. Bernie can’t help but wonder if she has run all the way from the LOCCENT Command. Truth is, she misses her too and Serena’s presence is much welcomed after reliving Sydney. The prospect of spending as little as an hour sitting right next to her, shoulder against shoulder, fills her with that particular warmth again.

“No offence Serena, but Wolfe and I need to talk about improvements and evaluate.” A hand shoots out and grips her elbow before she can even nod.

“Aw really Jac? You don’t have to be that hard at work. Can’t you even spare her for an hour?” Serena is all but pouting at Jac when they emerge from the Pod, Bernie’s gaze rivets at the exposed piece of the softest skin of the human body.

“No. Wolfe, now. Eat and talk.” Jac whips her head around and strides towards the Mess.

Bernie turns back to Serena, apology ready at her lips but Serena’s chuckle stops her.

“Worth a try.” she shrugs. “If you don’t get to see me before the end of the day, do knock at my quarters. I meant it when I say treat yourself to a glass of red, Shiraz is my favourite. Well done again.” She pats her shoulder and walks into Afghan’s control pod.

She doesn’t know how long she has been standing there until a sudden and foreign wave of irritation washes over her. “Okay, okay, Naylor you can pipe down,” she mutters automatically before she realises that she acknowledges Naylor’s emotion in her mind without any question.

It would seem that she is adjusting to this well.

“You know what I hate the most about the drift?” Jac asks her as soon as she sits down opposite her in the Mess Hall.

“The effort you have to put in to block your memory completely? You could have fucking warned me about it during all those simulations we did, not one second before the actual drifting.”

Jac stabs a potato rather than looking up at her. “This. When the adrenaline-fueled moments of fighting have passed but the connection is still lingering, nagging. People just can’t help but _feel,”_ She spits that word out like dirt. “I don’t need another person’s emotion inside my head, especially someone like a love-sick puppy.”

“…What?”

“Otherwise how would you explain why I suddenly felt elated to see Serena Campbell and then bloody _disappointed_ I can’t have lunch with her?”

Oh, well. Then something smacks her figuratively in the face.

“Campbell? You knew her back in Anchorage?”

“Yes, why don’t do you scream _that_ word even louder, I don’t think they can hear you at the airstrip - Oh good god, now you want to know everything.”

“Anything you can tell me that’s not already on the redacted records.”

“There is a reason no ones dares to utter the word in this shatterdome. Everything was hush-hush even back then, it becomes some sort of myth, especially here.”

“Were you there?” she leans forward to whisper.

“I was the one that took her place after she was transferred here.” Jac isn’t looking at her. For all Bernie know, she is talking to her steak.

But she isn’t so Bernie waits.

“I was a rookie, fresh out of the academy. All I remember was after a training exercise, the whole base was in chaos, we are all being ushered back into our quarters. I went to the Med-bay two days later, claiming the first aid kit in my quarter ran out of supplies. ” She stopped and just stared at the tray. “All I could hear was a woman screaming, and it wasn’t stopping when I left.”

A wave of terror washes over her, she doesn’t know whose emotion is that. “Was that…?”

“Her? Almost definitely.”

“Her co-pilot, what about them?”

“Her husband. I can’t remember much but he wasn’t very popular…anywhere.”

Bernie can’t stop the snort. Jac just rolls her eyes.

“So?”

“That’s all I know. And forgive me if I care more about my emergency assignment to a proper Jaeger two days later than someone I only had a glimpse or two, even though you have a huge crush on her.”

“Don’t you want to know what happened? Behind the redacts?”

Something compelled her to turned her head towards Serena’s table. She is throwing her head back and laughing at something Petrenko says.

“Everyone wonders that when they first start under her leadership. How could a Marshal be so over-familiar and expect the Shatterdome to work smoothly? Authority does not just pop out of nowhere because you bear the title of Marshal.” Jac stands up, holding her empty tray. “So to answer your question, no I am not interested in digging into our superior’s past. Just bloody kiss her and stop dwelling on the past.”

She turns around before she is completely out of earshot. “Oh but please don’t do it while we are still connected, I really don’t need that kind of information.”

Bernie stares gobsmacked at the retreating figure of Jac Naylor. This is perhaps the longest speech she has ever heard from her that has nothing to do with fighting or aliens.

Was she right though? Is Bernie Wolfe attracted to Serena Campbell or god forbid… no.  She shakes her head frantically. She is allowed to have friends god damn it.

Even if Serena is just a friend with very well-defined muscle that Bernie just happened to catch a glimpse through her doorway one night. Being a Marshal obviously does not mean she has let herself relaxed from training, even though she grumbles all the way from leaving her quarters to when she is back. And when Bernie hears it through the heavy metal door of her quarters and opens it to snicker at her, Serena gives her the finger. She neglects to close the door properly and that is how Bernie accidentally perves on her superior taking her blouse and the vest off -

_TALK TO HER NOT FANTASISE ABOUT HER_

Her fork skids on the metal tray which makes a teeth-rattling noise and Bernie jerks back from both the loud intruding thought and the noise. Unfortunately for her, she is on a bench and ends up an ungainly heap on the floor.

“Eating alone giving you cramps?” An amused voice sounds above her, Serena. Bernie is still trying to regain the breath that is knocked out from the impact. Definitely not because of the face that illuminates the whole room, looking down at her. Just Serena McKinnie, not god at the pearly gate.

“Try-trying a different p-position to help with the in-indigestion,” she wheezes.

“Come on.” She holds her hand out to help Bernie up. “I think it is a first someone falls off a bench after a drift. Or is it just you in general?”

“A bit of both?” she answers cheekily while bounces back up on the balls of her feet like nothing happened.

“Ah well, I’m sure you will get used to it, the first part anyway. I’ll see you tonight.” she winks and begins to walk away.

“Wait.” Bernie manages to unfreeze from the frankly salacious gesture. “Can I talk to you for a moment, in private.”

“Yeah sure,” Serena answers casually and beckons her to follow.

She ignores the people’s stares as they walk out the hall, especially a pair of burning glare, searing its mark on her back.

“So? What did you want to tell me?” Serena asks as soon as they are out of earshot.

Bernie’s wringing hands are her only response.

“Bernie? If there’s something wrong, I hope you feel like you can tell me, even it had anything to do with Hanssen.”

“What! No! I ah… just want to say thank you…I guess, for pulling me out from it.” she stares at a smudge of dirt on the metal wall. She feels like, no she knows, she will kiss her if she looks another second into those deep brown eyes that swim with emotions.

“You are my Ranger, of course it is my responsibility.”

She has had heart surgery for crying out loud but that does not compare to the heaviness in her chest, the fissure that appears out of nowhere, splitting her heart into two clean pieces. She can’t understand why, why she is feeling so deeply for a woman that she just known for a scant week, why Serena could pull her out from the misalignment, from being lost.

In the end, she decides she is projecting. She misses Alex, that’s all.

“So are you still coming over tonight?” Serena’s word jerks her back from her thought.

“I…I don’t think it is a good idea. I-I should go.” she walks past her quickly, leaving Serena frowning after her, thoroughly confused.

 


	4. What have I done?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ranger (/reɪnʤə(r)/): the rank given to Pan Pacific Defense Corps officers assigned to the Jaegers. They are commonly referred to as Jaeger Pilots. 
> 
> Marshal (/mɑːʃəl/): the highest rank given to officers in charge of Pan Pacific Defense Corps operations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long, dissertation seemed to take away all the motivation and resources for writing in general...
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

Bernie paces in her room, unable to sleep. She tries everything from meditation to running miles upon miles in the gym to tire herself out. All she achieves is a certain person going round and round in her mind and her heart going a million beats a second.

A knock at the metal door stops her in her tracks. The last thing she needs is more distraction.

“What?” she positively shouts at the door.

“Hey, it’s me.” The subject of her meditation is now physically ten metres away from her, only separated by the door, no matter how thick it is. 

“You okay?” The soft voice continues when Serena receives no reply from within. “I know you're still awake, the floor is complaining from all your walking around.”

“I'm getting ready to sleep actually, I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says hurriedly, almost at her bedside, ready to just slip into bed before she realises one fundamental flaw.

“You are drenched in sweat, you call that getting ready for bed?” Bernie turns around to see her in the open doorway, hovering outside the threshold.

“Just because I don’t lock my door doesn’t mean you can just barge in,” she growls, back towards her.

“Yes, yes the whole ‘I was in the British Army so I don’t know what a personal quarter is.’ rigmarole so I'm not crossing the line but seeing that you're not actually sleeping anytime soon, there's something that might interest you.” There is a small curve to her lips when Bernie turns around with piqued interest.

“You say that as if it was not synonymous to a bottle of red, or two.”

“Because it isn’t.”

“Oh?” Now she has her full attention.

“Yeah. Follow me, please?” She nods encouragingly and Bernie follows her, looking ever so slightly confused and very much intrigued. “Now I don’t know why you were in a hurry to leave the Mess but I have no doubt that you want to do it again.”

It does not occur to Bernie that her coat is still on the bed when she follows her into the simulation room. There is a draft but she feels none of it.

“I thought you were just joking when you said that.” The room is not unfamiliar to her, of course, it isn’t, but it is the first time Serena is in here with her.

“Well now you know I am not.” She walks around, adjusting the settings on a tablet, fiddling with a sensor and helmet.

“Serena…” Bernie starts, finally aware that Serena is not looking at her at all.

“Yes?” she is now burying her head in the tablet.

“Could you stop for a minute.” She pauses. “Please.”

Serena lets her hand drop to her side while she glances up to the ceiling exasperatingly. “Fine. So? You got my attention.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

“Not to me because if I need any more of this, I would drag Naylor down here first thing tomorrow morning, hell she would be banging on my door at five in the morning. You are not doing this for me.” A statement, not a question.

“Why else would I do it?”

“I don’t know!” she raises her hand exasperatedly, then she realises, no she doesn’t actually know why.

“You enjoyed it, in the Kwoon, I know that because I did too. I honest to god don’t know what you are worried about.”

“I have talked to Naylor.” That is all she says.

“And what have you talked about? Beauty tips?”

“Serena! I am being serious.”

“So am I, I don’t expect anything less from you.” She stands in front of her. “Look I am just arranging something that we both want to do.”

“Ah, so you're telling you do want something out of this then?” She folds her arms and refuses to take the portable controller Serena offers her.

“Come on, it’s just me wanting to have some fun okay? You know how much I hate the gym.” She waves it more vigorously in front of her.

She tilts her head back slightly so that it doesn’t hit her on the nose. “Fine, fine. One last question.”

Serena drops her hand to her side exasperatedly and echoes her tone back at Bernie. “Fine. What?”

“Are you sure this is safe?” She stares into her eyes, those dark pools, under the harsh light of the room and hopes she understands. She can’t do this to her if it pushes her into the deep end.

 _“Serena, I am in position.”_ The intercom crackles into life, Bernie remembers him as the Scottish lad who led her test drive today.

“Thank you Raf.” She adjusts a few more things on the tablet. “We are ready for the simulation.”

 _“Marshal, might I stress again -”_ Bernie frowns slightly at the change of address.

"Yes you might, whether I am taking them under advice is something else, Mr di Lucca,” She says dismissively, eyes still glued to the screen.

_“Fine, then I reserve the right to say ‘I told you so’ if anything goes wrong.”_

She lets out a barking laugh. “We’ll see, we’ll see. And in the meantime, we are getting into position.”

Bernie lets out a grumble that sounds more like a growl than anything intelligible but gets into the simulation controller nevertheless.

 _“Well, ladies, you know the drill, as always.”_ Raf says again when Serena takes her stance.

“Ready?” she turns to her.

“As ever.” Bernie manages a smirk.

_“Simulation commencing in 5…4…3…2…1…”_

Bernie closes her eyes

_It is utter chaos._

She thinks it is just the usual clutter at first, having spent her first drifting after five years with a void. This time, another mind who doesn’t hide deliberately from the drift like her.

She realises something was wrong not long after. Part of she is excited to see Serena McKinnie’s memory but it is the problem: she can’t see anything, not even her memory of pins and needles after sitting down for too long have a physical manifestation, this would be it. Like slipping into quicksand and getting buried quicker by the second.

Bernie can’t breathe and the panic is beginning to set in at the edges. Then she remembers this can’t be her.

 _Hey, stay with me._ She tries her mightiest to think that, think at all among all the noise. _Stay with me._

So instead, she falls. Melts into the drift (if you can still call it) and don’t get attacked for her mere presence. In the academy, the first thing she was taught about the drift was that it will always be part of a person. Sharing the same headspace does not make her entitled to another person’s mind, no matter who that is, your friend, your sibling, or even your child.

Or someone you could very possibly be in love with.

Right now, she is not sharing anything with Serena, she is in danger of being _consumed_. One wrong move and she will be swarmed like a foreign body in an immune system. Best case scenario, she will get thrown out the connection. Worse, they will be lost inside their own minds forever.

Suddenly she feels herself blinking into darkened room and she can move again. A noise is resonating through the room.

 _“Can someone talk to me?_ Anyone _? Marshal! Bernie!”_ Raf was shouting through the intercom. _“Serena!”_

It takes only one look to her left that makes her blood run cold. “Raf, call the med team. NOW!”

Serena has somehow detached from the control unit and slumped into a heap on the floor. Bernie rushes her side instantly and gingerly removes the helmet, her eyes are glassy and is faintly shaking. For the first time during the night she regrets that she doesn’t have her jacket with her.

“Serena, can you hear me?” She lifts her torso and cradles her head carefully from behind. No response. “Raf? What’s the ETA of the med team?” Her voice does not sound like her own, she sounds scared.

 _“They are nearly there, is she breathing?”_ His voice is unwavering; how can he be so calm when her mind is even more in a mess than when she was in the drift?

“Y-yes but she is not an-answering me.” She turns back to Serena. “Serena, p-please, stay with me.”

Her eyes are still out of focus, eyeballs swivelling around but not lingering on anything in particular. There is nothing Bernie can do other than murmuring repeatedly, “It’s okay, it’s going to be okay.”

She is ready to shout for Raf again but the door bangs open. Sacha rushes in with a trolley, follows closer by Hanssen.

_Shit._

“I am so sorry. I don’t know what happ-”

“Mr Levy? Is she safe for transportation?” Hanssen cuts across without acknowledging her at all.

Sacha simply nods after he finishes feeling around her neck, then he turns to Bernie. “Bernie you can let go now, she is in safe hands.”

“I - I -” she can feel her knuckles going white wrapping around her shoulder, her mind also registers Sacha’s words but she can’t make the two things connect.

A slender, pale arm reached across the prone figure of Serena and gently tugs her hand away. “Let go,” Hanssen says quietly.

She acquiesced, eventually, falling backwards to sit on the floor and watches Serena being loaded onto the gurney, her eyes finally blinking sluggishly.

He watches Serena being wheeled away before turning back to Bernie. “Instead of wallowing on the floor, might I suggest you wallow it in your own quarters.”

She scrambles up and about to rush after them. “I need to go to her now.”

“Have you not done enough damage already, Ranger?” he starts when she is charging out of the door.

Her eyes narrow. At the sound of her title, she straightens her back up to military precision and turns on her heels with equal exactness. “I didn’t plan to do it, she assured me that it would be fine, that it won’t be a full link.”

“And you are naive enough to believe her?” It only takes him two strides to stand right in front of her. “Brutes will forever remain brutes.”

She stares resolutely up at him even though her neck muscles severely protest at the degree. “I know next to nothing about her condition, if she decides to lie, there is nothing I can do. Excuse me if you don’t care about her but I am going to the Infirmary.”

“You are going anywhere near her.”

“You are the head of Technical, I do not answer to you.”

“As her next of kin, you are not allowed to step foot into her room. Is that clear?”

“What?!” It is neither the revelation nor his attempt of an order makes her charges forward but his condescending tone.

Before she can make any contact, to take out _everything_ on this man, another slender figure got between them and pushes her back into a wall. Jac Naylor.

“Enough both of you, Hanssen go to the Marshal before I beat the crap out of you for trying boss around one of my rangers.” He nodded at Jac sharply and makes his way briskly down the hallway. She turns back to Bernie who is standing on the balls of her feet like a bird about to burst into flight, two seconds away from racing him to Serena. “You need to calm down.”

“ _I_ need to calm down? _”_ Bernie grits her teeth as he disappears around a corner.

“Yes by the morning, if not now, everyone would know you put the respected, well-loved Marshal out of commission and into a coma. The last thing you need is having a fist fight with her second-in-command.”

“Fuck…just _fuck.”_ She runs her hands down her face.

“That about sums it up. Go to your room. I’ll see if I can sneak you in when the tall lank is doing repairs on the machines.”

“You would - wait, you can do that?”

“Well unfortunately for everyone involved, I am the most experienced in this base after Serena McKinnie and next in line as Marshal. Be that as it may, being her second-in-command does not give Hanssen military privileges.” Jac smirks.

“…Thank you.” Jac Naylor is Marshal material, Bernie thinks with trepidation and a sudden renewed wave of respect.

“Go. Get yourself a cup of tea or something, telling you to sleep would be useless, I know that much.”

She follows the thinly-veiled command, staying and staring at that empty room is not an option.

“Wolfe.”

“Naylor.”

“She will be fine, you two are drift compatible, nothing else could have been done.”

“I should have said no.”

“Would you deny a starving woman the only food you carry - on the off chance she might be allergic to dragon fruit?”

She blinks. “Weird metaphor.”

“Sorry, as much as I would love to claim credit for that, it’s not my material.”

It dawns on Bernie who could that possibly be. “Serena asked you.” When Jac simply nods, she continues, “but you said no.”

“I said yes.” her eyes widen after she registers Bernie’s meaning. “Good god no, she asked if _you_ would be the one, the one who could drift with her. It would seem the interest is both ways.”

“So you told her yes.” she grits her teeth.

“I told her if you could handle my drift, you could take whatever her drift throws at you. You did, on both occasions.”

All her worries suddenly rush to the front of her mind. “This isn’t a game!” She shouts across the corridor.

“No it isn’t but she is a soldier at heart, a soldier who couldn’t do what she was meant to do. Not everything is about you and I don’t have time to be your counsellor, excuse me.” She says, not unkindly but also disappears into another corridor, effectively cutting the discussion short.

Thankfully, she does not walk into anyone on her way back to the quarters. Doesn’t stop her from replaying the drift again and again, she digs out the dusty bottle of scotch from within her rucksack and just drinks straight from the bottle.

With each gulp of alcohol, the fire in her throat grows. It is her fault, she should have tried more, harder, until that damn stubborn woman would give up on that idea. She can’t even close her eyes because every time she does that, another pair of eyes which used to contain the most vibrant brown is now staring dully back at her.

Her last thought before the sight before her fades into black: _Dear God, please let her live._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'd by [refreshingly-original](http://www.refreshingly-original.tumblr.com)
> 
> Serena is fine, this is not a cliffhanger (well yes it is but she really will be fine)
> 
> Notes: [Dragon Fruit](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pitaya) is this catus-like kind of fruit that is _really_ bland but quite common in Hong Kong, comes in white or red flesh.


	5. A Connection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drift compatibility (/drɪft kəmˌpætəˈbɪlɪti/): a potential bond that exists between two people that allows them to share minds, becoming a single consciousness in order to control a mobile weapon of the size of a giant humanoid known as Jaegers.

To most people working here, their marshal is now busy dealing with the outside world and the bureaucracy, not hanging on a thread between life and death. Even if they know the truth, Bernie suspects that the Shatterdome will go on like a well-oiled machine.

And that is exactly what Bernie sees over the next few days, teaching academy classes in the morning and simulations after lunch, the war clock ticking away in the main Jaegar bay, no one stepped one toe out of their ordinary routines. It’s only their luck there isn’t a kaiju attack in those few days, given that the last one was nearly two weeks ago.

“How is she? Can I see her?” becomes her usual question she throws at Jac every day at lunch.

“Still out. And the tall guy is still keeping vigil.” Jac gives her habitual response without even moving her eyes from the screen she is reading from, this time though, she adds something more, “No more thrashing around though.”

“Thank you.” She tries her utmost to be nonchalant, that information is supposed to be confidential anyway.

“And if I see her face one more time during the simulation, I swear I will gauge your eyes out. Or my own, I haven’t decided yet.”

“Yes, we are all well aware how much you hate the idea of caring for a friend.” She put the tray down heavily. “It was my fault. It _is._ So naturally I care, what is the matter with you? _”_

“I keep my own damn emotions to myself, even Mo has less of those and she takes everything personally.” Jac keeps on reading.

 _Does everyone become automatically infuriating when they become Marshal? “_ You act like you are above it all but I can’t make you feel things that you can’t already feel.”

“Say whatever you like, I honestly - ” A technical officer rushes into the Hall and comes to a screeching halt next to Jac. Bending down, he whispers urgently into her ear. “What do you mean, _you lost her?”_

He glances nervously at Bernie before mutters some more.

“Well then find her! How big is this place? I swear to god you all are incompetent.” She stands up abruptly. “Wolfe, the simulation this afternoon is cancelled, you have the afternoon off.”

“What - ?” She cannot get a word in edgewise before Jac disappears from sight.

So now she has an entire afternoon of nothing to do but she can't leave the base in case there was an attack. Gym is an idea, she shrugs and continues to eat.  


When she walks out of the hall, she gets the acute sense of _weird_ to be doing nothing when everyone is bustling around, a goal in mind. Being in a middle of a war is one thing but she has come to learn that people in Hong Kong do, no _rush_ everything through. She suspects that they have always and will always be the same, when it was peacetime and when that eventually comes.  


She suddenly remembers having a weird vision one day _(when she was still posted in Afghanistan, before being recruited by the PPDC, before aliens rise out of the goddamn ocean)_ of maybe settling in a cottage by the countryside - far _far_ away from any large body of water, get a dog and watch the sunset every day. At that time, she wasn't so fussed whether she would do that alone or with someone else but now...

Alex is a city girl, they both know that. Bernie still recalls how Alex’s eyes lit up the moment the chopper landed at Sydney Shatterdome. The mere _sound_ of the city excited her, it is no wonder she stays after the incident. Bernie realises she doesn’t know what Serena wants in life, a topic that naturally would not come between two people but somehow Bernie feels like they have already known each other for the longest time. Now she may never have the chance ever again.

Preoccupied with her thoughts, she has unknowingly walked to the very corridor they reside opposite each other. Something, however, is decidedly wrong. It is usually one symmetric picture, two identical metal door with pipes lining the walls.

Right now, the door that is her room is ajar, the light peeks through the gap it leaves. There is nothing for her to do other than walking in cautiously, _what’s the worse that could happen?_

Her room is in its usual disarray, clothes draping over chairs, belongings are still strewn all over the place. Her bed unmade and the duvet is still a lump in the middle - She definitely leaves it bunched up against the wall this morning.

Finding someone sleeping on her bed is the very last thing Bernie expects from this little investigation. Honestly, her bed is not that particularly comfortable.

Bernie gingerly peels back one corner in case it is some techie who got drunk and stumbled into one of the highest ranking officer’s quarters.

“ _Serena_ \- ?!” She almost leaps off the bed but only barely restrains herself because she may wake her up.

 The lump just wiggles a bit and grunts in response.

Bernie can’t see any action she can take other than calling Jac, it’s almost certain that’s Serena they are looking for.

“B’nie,” Serena mumbles as Bernie picks up the intercom.

“Shhh, It’s okay, go back to sleep.” Carefully, she reaches out and stroked her hair, soothingly back matted strands.

 _“We’ll be right here, stay with her.”_ Jac picks up and hangs up before Bernie can start talking, she can only stare at the receiver and shake her head. Whenever she thinks she knows who Jac Naylor is, something changes her mind.

The knock on her door comes minutes later and Serena is still no closer to waking. She closes the door firmly behind her as she steps out into the corridor. Only Jac and Hanssen are there waiting for her.

_Of course, Serena and he are practically joined at the hip._

“How is she?” Jac asks.

“Sleeping.” She crosses her arm, feet apart. “I think she should stay.”

“No doubt, since you were the one who brought her here in the first place,” Hanssen comments acidly.

 _“Excuse me?!”_ Bernie takes a threatening step towards him.

“It is physically impossible for Ms McKinnie to walk from the medical bay her quarters, let alone not being seen by any member of staff. You obviously smuggled her out.”

She let out a high-pitched bark, cannot even dignify that accusation with an answer. Hanssen’s face morphed into a haughty expression.

“As her next of -”

“Yeah, so you keep saying.” Bernie waves her hand almost dismissively, “in fact it is the only thing you keep saying so what’s your point? That you have the legal advantage? If there is something more compelling, you would have said that instead but here we are.”

Bernie is about to say more that can land her in disciplinary action but lucky for everyone involved, Jac decides to butt in. “She is staying.”

She holds up a hand before either Bernie can gloat or Hanssen can protest. “She is already moved once, whether by her own volition or by someone else, so moving her again would only be harmful. If she can get from the med bay to here, she is fine, any test can wait when she is fully lucid.”

“I’m not leaving her side again.” He says through gritted teeth.

“Clearly I can’t get rid of you.” Bernie begins sardonically. “Might as well come in.”

“As long as I still have my co-pilot and chief engineer by the end of the day.” Jac decides with a small raise of an eyebrow to Bernie. _Use the time well._

 Bernie steps into her room, ignoring Hanssen’s sharp intake of breath.

“You are supposed to be a soldier.” Bernie ignores that too because her attention is on the sole occupant on her bed. She can’t say how happy she is to see life behind those brown eyes again.

“A - a bit of d-de…ja v-vu, yeah?” Serena says weakly, sitting up but still leaning heavily against the headboard.

“You should sleep some more,” Bernie says with a croaky voice but Serena has no such luck holding back the tears. “Serena, you are okay now, I promise.”

“I th-thought it could…could w-work, I - I really d-did.” She dissolves quickly into hacking coughs.

“Serena, you should not exert yourself,” Hanssen states quietly.

“Oh hey.” She pressed on her chest as if that can ease her breathing. “Can I have some privacy?”

For a moment, Bernie thinks Serena wants to talk to Hanssen which isn’t really that odd but _maybe she doesn’t have to do in my own room, right?_ Then she realises Serena is talking to him, not her.

“But - as you wish.” He nods once. “I will be outside.”

“No - Zigma, scheduled check up.” She falls back heavily to the bed as if she has exhausted the strength she got from the sleep.

This time, he doesn’t bother protesting but turns on his heel neatly with a military precision - Bernie notes with faint interest - and closes the metal door behind him with a small click.

“Now then.” Serena smiles tiredly up at Bernie.

“He’s right, you should rest.” Bernie tugged the duvet up to her chin. The weak voice, the puffy eyes, they serve as reminders that this is her fault.

“The bed is big enough.” She whispers.

“What?” Her brain goes offline for two seconds processing her request. “T-that’s not what I meant when I said rest.”

Serena slowly but surely moves back against the wall. “Please?”

“You do know your own room is just right across the corridor?” Bernie’s voice dropped to a breathy quality to match Serena’s.

Somehow the arm who reaches out to tug her down is surprisingly strong. It is definitely insistent. “Your door is never locked.”

“Why did you leave the med bay?” She asks, arranging the duvet to cover both of them.

Serena cuddles closer as soon as Bernie settles into the bed. “I spent too much time in that place, I need to get out. But also…”

“Yes?”

“I want to see you.”

She barely manages to keep down the sob that is threatening to burst out of her throat. There is so much she wants to tell her, all the things she would have said if she ever gets the chance to visit her but in the end it only dissolves to a single sentence. “I wanted to come and see you, even if you are out but - ”

“I know,” Serena whispers. “It was like that last time too.”

 _Last time._ They are well aware of what that is referring to. “What exactly happened? In Anchorage.” Bernie asks, not sure she wants to know the answer.

“Oh dear Bernie,” She finds Bernie’s hand above the duvet and holds it. “You went into the drift and you found love. I only saw my husband in bed with another woman.”

The breath catches in Bernie’s chest. The drift should be containing the best memories of one’s life, tinted by their prior experience. Bernie always sees a bit of the sand while drifting and although Jac doesn’t see much in her drift, she tells Bernie once that the smell of the oak tree outside her foster home always lingers.

“I saw him again. I think it will never go away ever again.” The flood of tears comes anew, “he broke me.”

Bernie tries to wipe away the tears but more come to replace them. Serena continues as if there isn’t someone waving a rag in her face. “I - I thought I could connect with you, something to remember in the drift. Some-someone.”

She stops the wiping motion and looked at her. _The twenty-first century is a mess. “_ I think we forgot something, what with the aliens rising up from the ocean.”

Serena looks at her with eyes brimming with tears. “I don’t get it.”

“There is more than one way to connect with someone.” She brushed back a strand of hair before moving forward slowly to press her lips against Serena’s.

Serena gasps softly but doesn’t back off from her. Bernie, when asked about it years later, cannot tell you for the life of her why she decides not to stop and keep kissing this woman. A woman whom she has no idea at all whether she even _likes_ women but one thing Bernie can be damn sure is that Serena’s lips are warm and oh so supple.

Bernie waits long after Serena’s breath has relaxed to long steady exhales before getting up: she has something important to do.

Hanssen is easy to find, naturally in the jeager repair bay, in his three-piece suit, this time sans jacket. What is not natural, at least by Bernie’s standard, is the music flowing from a little device from where he is sitting cross-legged on a platform. Flowing is probably the wrong word, the notes come out at random intervals, sharp climbs and sudden drops interspersed throughout the song but oddly enough, the tune is quite catchy.

“What’s this?”

“Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robot,” he pauses as he tightens a screw, “part two.”

She barks out a laugh impulsively but as soon as she does it she closes her mouth just as quickly, “this is not why I am here.”

He stays silent, save for the squeak of another screw being tightened.

“You are not the type of person that cares.” Blunt, straight to the point, that’s her.

“That is not a question,” he remarks airily.

“Then why do you care about her so much?” She and Serena are…they are not even a - all they did was kissing. Then why does she care why he cares so much?

“Their enemies are monsters from another world, not the machine that is supposed to be their weapon and protection.”

“That answered precisely none of my question.”

“I refuse to let another pilot die because of something that can be fixed and perfected.”

 _Another._ She had heard that tone before, it was someone else who was, perhaps still is, close to him.

“Who?”

“Her name was Elisabeth Hanssen, she died from the radiation leaking from the core into the hull due to lack of proper shielding.” Clinical, stony, as if he is reciting from a report, perhaps he is. His hands, though, are quavering slightly.

 _Hanssen._ Bernie raises an eyebrow.

“My sister, died from a brain tumour of all things.” He gives a slight shake of his head, “And now my best friend has to suffer from…that.”

“Is she just…that? Your best friend?” Somehow, she hates herself for asking that.

He twists the screwdriver a bit too hard and it flies out of his hand, dropping off the platform but he makes no effort to retrieve it. He looks up finally, “he asked the same question.”

“Sorry, who?”

He closes his eyes tightly and finally breaths out, “Edward Campbell.”

It is him again, the man she has heard only once before today is suddenly popping out of everywhere.

“Of course, the question was posed in a more interrogating tone. After the  - incident, after his own immediate recovery,” he continues, turning instead to watch the screwdriver, “he refused to stay with her, so I did. The possibility that two people can only be friends was too far-fetched for him.”

Warmth leeches out of her rapidly, leaving everything cold as the realisation washes over her, “he abandons her because he wouldn’t _let_ her have friends?”

He shakes his head, or rather just a minute turn from left to right, then back to the centre, “he has lesions in his spinal cord that made him unable to pilot a Jeager ever again. He was never going to stay, it was worse: he used the entire _debacle_ as a justification for his own affair.”

“Where is he now?” She grits her teeth, “Enjoying his pension?”

“In prison, for drinking and driving and two charges of manslaughter.” He goes back to his emotionless statement, just stretches his arm, retrieves the screwdriver and continue on as if it was just a spec for a particular machine, not even his precious Jeagars but perhaps…the copying machine that is gathering dust in the storage would be a much better description.

The music is still playing but they stop talking, him focusing on his work, her looking out to the repair bay.

“This is your little family.” She does not wait for a reply, “And I am the intruder.”

“I cannot tell if you are over exaggerating or selling yourself short.”

Bernie gives a snort, “You don’t like me, don’t pretend you do.”

“She looks at you with eyes brighter than the stars. I was…afraid she might start chasing after them. Your personality had no bearing on my opinion of you.”

“Chasing the impossible. And I helped her.”

He shakes his head, “she would have found a way, with or without you.”

“She did, and it was with me.” Suddenly, all she can think about is the kiss, to hold her tight within the cocoon of the duvet. “Wait, is that your way of saying you _like_ my personality?”

“How will my reputation survive such a slander, Ms Wolfe?” his face was unwavering, not even a twitch of lips.

“Try loosening up, it works wonders.”

Hanssen indulges himself in a brief smile before arranging his face back to his usual sombre expression, “you are what the Corps need but not what she needs.”

 _Not what she needs._ Of course.

“ - unfortunately, you are what she wants, and that would be the end of any discussion.” he continues, oblivious to her introspection.

“So you…approve?”

He gives little more than a tilt of his head. “You did save her life, you have my gratitude.”

“I didn’t do anything during the testing.”

“I suspect that is why she can walk from the medbay all the way back to your quarter.”

“Inaction is the key to success, how quaint.”

“I would term it as not attempting to take control.” He sets aside the part he is working on, staring out towards the bay, “I do not claim to be an expert in neurology or drift technology but I saw your report, sometimes it can take its own control and if you have even dared to fight back…we would not be speaking now.”

“Huh,” she breathed, “I am lucky then.”

“Needless to say, she has you to thank.”

“I don’t need her thanks.”

He takes a deep breath and releases it quietly. “Well, you have mine.”

She shuffles awkardly at her perch against the railing, the silence that follows is unsettling. There is no dismissal, as if he is waiting for her to start an everyday topic, like partygoers mingling.

She is never good with that.

“I…uh…should probably go.”

He nods absently, still working on his little project. There is nothing else from him until she is nearly at the door.

“You need to tidy your room, it’s a mess. Utterly unacceptable.”

She smirks as she walks away.

They will get along just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit A WHOLE YEAR SINCE THE LAST CHAPTER!!! I still can't say my mojo is back, especially I am not quite sure how to go on (I have it written down somewhere so not abandoned, definitely not) but thanks for whoever is still hanging around
> 
> Some Notes:
> 
> Yes, people in Hong Kong rush everything, I can never breathe back there.
> 
> Yoshimi battles the pink robots is an actual album by The Flaming Lips, do go and have a listen :)
> 
> Hanssen is the exposition guy so forgive me for inserting such a long scene after their first kiss


End file.
